


Bittersweet Nightfall

by SaunteringVaguelyDownwards (DrowningInStarlight)



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angry!Aziraphale, Angst, Bombing, Crowley is in love, Emotional Hurt, Fluff, Goodness Doesn't Equal Weakness, Kissing, M/M, Not as Sad as it Sounds Honest., World War II, alcohol mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-11 22:13:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12945117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrowningInStarlight/pseuds/SaunteringVaguelyDownwards
Summary: "Aziraphale." He said flatly. A little more hollowly than he had perhaps intended.The angel spun and cursed. "You," He said, "You, don't youdaretell me you had anything to do with this! Don't you dare!"Crowley took a step back, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. "Aziraphale, I didn't- I wouldn't. I swear, I didn't have anything to do with any of this. This is all the humans."Aziraphale and Crowley meet in a little village during the second world war.





	Bittersweet Nightfall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [punkfaery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkfaery/gifts).



> This is a headcanon in which Crowley and Aziraphale aren't close until after the second world war. 
> 
> Inspired by "Modern Love" By queermagicalgirl, and some of the comments on aforementioned fic. 
> 
> We all need more Good Omens in our lives, after all! 
> 
> Enjoy! :D

The pub was crowded, bustling with soldiers on leave and barmaids carrying trays. Crowley leant back from the game he was Tempting people to bet on, and called to one of the barmaids. "Another round for my fine friends!"

The soldiers cheered, and one said "You're a fine fellow yourself, Mr...er..."

Crowley just smiled, not supplying his name to answer the man's hanging question. He put his feet up on the table, and smiled at the ceiling. He _liked_ this place. It was a small village, once very peaceful, though now it was the regular resting place of soldiers on their way back to England. It was busy, interesting, and full of people so close to the edge they hardly needed Tempting, which meant Crowley hardly had to do any work at all. 

The fourth round of drinks had arrived, and one of the soldiers had started telling a tale, with the gusto of one just on the other side of drunk. 

"- And then the angel, right, although we didn't know that was what he was then, he waved at us, me and the others, and we followed and he lead us right back to the dugout, avoiding everyone of those mines, I swear. And then he just vanished! Just like that! That's when we knew, that was no normal man such as me or you. He was something _different._ "

"How'd you know he ain't a demon, then, Marv?" Another, marginally less drunk soldier asked.

"Wellll..." Marv replied, looking rather annoyed at his story being challenged. "He lead us home again, didn't he? What demon d'you know who'd do that?"

Crowley smiled again, and looked around the room with a slightly proprietorial air. What- or rather _who_ \- he saw made him straighten instantly, and spring up from the table. 

He'd caught a glimpse of blue eyes, and short blond curls. Maybe that wouldn't have meant anything to most people, but Crowley's angel-spotting sense were highly tuned, and he immediately recognised the form of the enemy. 

Aziraphale. 

The angel had apparently left the pub, and Crowley turned to follow, but of course the air raid sirens chose that time to start their terrifying warnings. Everyone in the pub was up in an instant, crowding towards the doors, and Crowley cursed internally. There was no way of telling if this raid was a false alarm or not, and no escaping the crowd herding him towards the church so he gave up and let himself be carried along. 

 

He stood awkwardly against the wall of the crypt, and thought about the last time he'd seen Aziraphale. _Really_ seen, that is, not just made eye contact across a room of people, each daring the other to interfere in whatever businesses had brought them into the same circles.  
That happened so often, Crowley had begun to suspect they had similar preferences in locations, wine and companionship, as unlikely as it might sound for an angel and a demon to share tastes.

They'd last talked just after the end of the Great War. Well, he said talked- Actually, they'd just got very drunk in silence, each wrapped up in their own thoughts. In a pub not unlike the one outside. The one that was probably going to get bombed out very soon.

 

Again, and again, the bombs hit, each a shudder that ran though everything like a mighty being stamping in frustration. The crypt was packed by now, full of people crying and children screaming, and Crowley covered his head with his arms and waited for it all to be over.

 

Time passed, oh so slowly, but eventually the bombing ceased. 

Feeling more than a little spaced out, and led more by instinct than reason, Crowley pushed through the crowd and up the stone steps. The woman standing closest to the heavy doors warned him that the bombing might not be over, and that it could be dangerous out there, and he nodded but left anyway, pushing the heavy doors shut behind him. 

The smoke was blinding, pouring upwards in huge suffocating clouds from burning buildings and trees, but Crowley could still see the figure standing alone, looking down at the ruins of the houses. 

"Aziraphale." He said flatly. A little more hollowly than he had perhaps intended. 

The angel spun and cursed. "You," He said, "You, don't you _dare_ tell me you had anything to do with this! Don't you dare!"

Crowley took a step back, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. "Aziraphale, I didn't- I wouldn't. I swear, I didn't have anything to do with any of this. This is all the humans." 

The rage in Aziraphale's face cooled slightly, although it didn't disappear, lending his face a darkness Crowley had rarely seen but had learnt to fear.

"What's going on, Aziraphale? He said hopelessly. He didn't know why he asked, it was clear Aziraphale didn't have the answer. He didn't think anyone had the answer. The world was tearing itself apart and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it any more.  
"I-" Aziraphale began, but then he noticed other people starting to trickle out of their hiding places, and staring at the two of them. 

"Oi, Mister, where did your friend come from?" Marv called suspiciously.

"Come with me," Crowley said, and Aziraphale reluctantly followed. They turned a corner, and ducked inside a partially destroyed barn.

"What are you _doing_ , here?" He asked the angel, looking him up and down, noting his military style clothes and the shadows in his blue eyes.

Aziraphale stood stiffly, radiating anger, although Crowley wasn't sure who at. It disturbed him, he was used to seeing the angel cheery and comfortable, not like this.  
Although neither of them would admit it, they did keep an eye on each other, just in passing as it was. After all, they were the only two beings old enough to remember the Beginning who still deigned to walk the Earth, and no one, whoever they are, whatever they might pretend, wants to be alone. 

"I'm... helping," He said at last.

Crowley grabbed his shoulders and shook them slightly. "Have you _heard_ the stories the soldiers tell, Aziraphale? Of angels leading them through mine fields and getting them out of situations so tricky their escape can only be described as a miracle? Don't lie to me."

 

"Heaven doesn't care," Aziraphale said in a voice so harsh it shocked Crowley, truly shocked him. "Heaven doesn't care about any of this. Have you..."  
His voice cracked and trembled slightly. "Have you seen the things the Nazis have done? Are doing? Because I was there, Crowley, I tried to help those poor, poor people and I failed. Maybe you can just sit around and enjoy yourself, but I can't. Heaven doesn't care, and neither does Hell, but they are people and they are _dying_ , Crowley, they are dying in their hundreds..."

"And so you lead the soldiers," Crowley murmured, looking deep into Aziraphale's eyes. "So you lead them and give them hope, for a time. And... and you make sure their letters get home to their loved ones. Oh, Aziraphale..." 

"Are you going to stop me? Try to tempt me?" His expression was brittle, like he was about to cry.

"Aziraphale. I don't want people to be hurt. Not like that, not for something that's not fault of their own."

They stood less than a pace away from each other, eyes locked. Then Crowley suddenly moved, and pressed a quick, hard kiss to his lips. 

"Aziraphale. You're a good person." He said. 

That was not what he meant. 

What he meant was _You're a better person than I could ever be._

What he meant was _You care, you care so damn much and you take action to help people and make the world a better place and I could never, ever corrupt that purity. I would never dream of trying._  
"See you around." He said quietly. 

Azirphale nodded, and smiled, ever so slightly.  
"See you soon. Crowley."

Then he walked out into the evening light, and Crowley made no move to stop him.

**Author's Note:**

> Aziraphale as an Avenging Angel is one of my favourite things tbh. Soldier of Heaven etc! 
> 
> Thanks for reading, kudos and comments are greatly appreciated.


End file.
